Nobody puts baillee in the corner

I am a girl who works at an undisclosed place involving customer service. The other night, I was waiting on two men. I leaned over to grab something and one of them starting reading the tattoo of my sister near my left collar bone. This would be fine, if the tattoo had be readily visible. He and his friend had to have been looking directly down my shirt. I was wearing a long sleeved, loose fitting shirt with a slight scoop neck, leggings, tennis shoes, and beanie. Even if I had been wearing a tube top, Daisy Dukes, and thigh highs, there was no need to look directly down my shirt and try to sensually read off the tattoo of my older sister’s signature. As if that were not enough, they called me “hun” and “sugar” throughout our entire exchange, used a couple of dessert-themed double entendres, and did, in no way, hide their weddings rings. I try to be as cold (no pun intended) as possible, but they continued to try to flirt with me. It made me so uncomfortable that I had to go the back for a few seconds to collect myself. The friend I was working with was livid when she found out I hadn’t gotten her involved. I said I was used to it and initially brushed it off. Then, I realized how sad this was.

I shouldn’t be used to getting hit on at my job. I have lived in Austin for five years. I walked a mile and a half home from my internship. I’ve walked home numerous times by myself. I’m used to cat calls and obscene phrases being shouted at me through my headphones. The fingers and knuckles surrounding my middle finger now kneal down on sheer reflex. Why should I be used to this? Why should my reactions be second nature? Yes, I have been sincerely hit on at work in very respectful ways; however, I have also been hit on in very disrespectful ways. I once had to button up my cardigan because a group of dumb teenage boys were whispering about my “tits.” These kids were at least five years younger than me. How are they already this vulgar with women? I’ve watched horror movies since childhood, still listen to rap, and can’t escape shows oozing with sex, and I’ve never once whistled at someone walking down the street. I’ve never slapped someone’s ass (seriously). I’ve never made moaning noises while someone made my sandwich at a restaurant.

I don’t know if it’s a matter of being raised to be respectful, or unfortunately, the matter of being a female. I more than understand finding someone attractive. I more than understand flirting a little with the hot barista at Starbucks. I more than understand there is a line though. I would never intentionally make someone uncomfortable. People are more than sexual entities. We’re words and thoughts and feelings. We’re more than exposed flesh. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about how I’m lucky. It’s sad I call myself fortunate because I’ve only been verbally harassed. There are those who have had every part of themselves violated and stripped away. They’ve had to fight for everything. It’s worse than sickening; it’s horrifying. I only have to feel uncomfortable for a matter of minutes or days at most. There are some who struggle through every day. All I know is my mother taught me to be kind to others and about the beauty of human life. I was taught to treat everyone with dignity and to always smile. My mother would go Mommie Dearest with a fly swatter on my ass if I yelled out some off the comments men have yelled out about my “pussy” or butt, if she didn’t drop dead of a heart attack first. Basically, I don’t understand people, so I think that’s why I choose blogging and podcasting for my hobbies.

This isn’t meant to be an attack on people or to start rumors about me becoming a hermit. It’s meant to serve as a reminder about actions. Whether or not it be negative or positive, every action has a consequence. There will be some sort of reaction. Words are no different. Words are one of the most powerful weapons in your arsenal. You can’t unsend the text message telling one of your friends she doesn’t matter. You can’t delete the Facebook message you send to a guy in your class telling him he’s weird and unattractive. You can’t rewind your speech to avoid telling your mother you hate her. A seemingly unimportant statement can destroy someone’s world. “Flattering” comments can be perceived as dehumanizing and humiliating. Think long and hard before you objectify your waitress by commenting on her lower back tattoo. You have no idea what scars it covers up.